Hello again! Here is another little attempt at a one-shot with my Dragonborn, Helen, and Vilkas, one of the awesome 'wolfie' twins in Jorrvaskr! Please also have a read of my other three one-shots, Two-Handed, Quakes and Bows, Quiver and Arrows!
I don't own Skyrim, Bethesda does! Please read and enjoy!
There had been a celebration inside Jorrvaskr earlier that evening. It was caused by Ria's earning of a true warrior's scar according to Torvar. She, Athis and Njada had been sent to deal with a cave of trolls down from Valtheim Towers. After bypassing the bandits holed up in there, the trio delved into the cave, eager to prove to the Harbinger that they should be inducted next into the Circle. As a result of their zeal, Ria left with a rather jagged looking scar to the face; it zig-zagged across her right cheek from the corner of her eye down to her chin. It was pink and fleshy, but something a Nord would be proud of and Ria – having been around Nords for so long – had happily rejoiced in her injury.
But now it had wound down. Torvar's head was on the table, drunk into a stupor as was typical. Athis had retired to his bed, as had Njada to hers. Brill was cleaning up the many mugs but the others were still lazing around the room, drinking, eating and talking. Vignar and Eorlund were tucked into a corner, mumbling between each other, old eyes observing and not missing a thing. Helen was sat in the middle of the table, as was designated the Harbinger's seat. Serana (her ever present shadow) was beside her, looking like she was asleep but Helen knew better.
Vilkas was across from them to the right, reading and Serana mused on her friend's husband. He read a lot, and was oddly knowledgeable for a warrior. Consequently, he was quick witted; his tongue as sharp as his blade. And all this thought did was rouse another way to torment her dear mortal friend on her left. Glancing over at the dark-haired Nord and his equally handsome – if a little dimmer – brother, Serana pondered over him. She could see why Helen would be attracted to him; physically he was rather easy on the eyes and pleasing. Whilst not as broad-shouldered as his brother, Vilkas had a different, mysterious kind of mien about him. He was tactical (but like any Nord was prone to bouts of impetuous ferocity that made their warrior existence so renowned) and as she knew, a master with two-handed weapons. But Vilkas was clever. He had intelligence that was well disguised behind his silver, lupine eyes and it often shocked those of other races that a warrior, a Nord warrior at that, had such vast amounts of knowledge.
Serana's musing had not gone unnoticed. Both Vilkas and Helen had sensed the vampire's bright eyes gazing at him through slit lids. Helen wondered what was going through her mind, but seeing as Vilkas was the subject of Serana's sights, she knew that another provoking conversation would soon start up. It was at that particular moment Helen noticed exactly what Vilkas was reading. Beside him was the Holds of Skyrim, Myths of Sheogorath and The City of Stone; but firmly held in his hands now was that book Helen had discovered in the drawer of a cabinet within the very room they sat. Hallgerd's Tale was clasped tightly in Vilkas' left hand, his right hand resting lightly over his chin as though he were thinking.
And thinking he certainly was. His silvery eyes flitted to her golden-green ones every so often as he steadily read. All Helen could do was hope that Serana had not come across that particular work since her release from Dimhollow Crypt. However, Helen was not secure in that thought.
Indeed, Serana was aware of that tale. And she was also aware that ever since their sojourn into Arkngthamz and Helen's declaration that she may just fall apart due to the quakes, the couple had not really spoken more than a few sentences. They'd been home two days with Jorrvaskr nearly empty. Vilkas and Farkas had gone out to somewhere in Eastmarch and had returned that afternoon, and the celebration had left little time to talk.
"So, how was your trip to Eastmarch, Farkas?" She piped up suddenly. Helen glanced sideways at the vampire as she continued to sip on her ale.
"Just had to return a person home. Bandits had nabbed them off the road between Riften and Windhelm. Simple really." Farkas groused. "Didn't you and Helen go into a Dwemer ruin? The one with the serious quakes?" Vilkas tensed faintly at the mention of that certain ruin.
"Oh yes, it was quite an escapade! Helen jumped at the very least one hundred feet into the river at the bottom. Quite a quest in truth; Vilkas showed Helen a book on Aetherium shards." Serana divulged. "Your brother is remarkably smart."
Farkas grinned innocently. "Yeah, always has been. Used to think it was strange how he could be so interested in ink on pages and blades too. It was one or the other, but he's one of the few who enjoys both."
Serana nodded, smiling over-eagerly, "And I bet he has a way with words, no?"
Farkas laughed heartily and slapped a hand onto his brother's shoulder, shaking it. "Oh yeah! Vilkas the Silver-Tongue people have called him in the past. Quick with words, quick with blades. Don't mess with my brother! When he's had enough talk, he'll have you on your knees!" And there was the bait. Helen was certain she'd never seen such a roguish smirk on Serana's face as she turned.
Vilkas had also picked up on the change in the vampire, but he never ventured too far from his book. It was getting to the part where Hlaalu Pasoroth chopped off his armour's head whilst in the midst of some rather serious relations with his wife. He was beginning to wonder whether he should also walk on his hands, if only to see his wife's reaction.
"Oh really?" Serana spoke in a voice much higher than usual. Curiosity was most certainly killing her. "And just how quickly does that take?"
Helen scrutinised the vampire with narrowed eyes. But Farkas jumped into the conversation again. "However long it needs to be; a few moments or several minutes. Doesn't matter, Vilkas and his silver-tongue can make anyone falter." Helen was currently faltering at her brother-in-law's words. She knew Serana would really run with this. Ridicule and torment was well on its way, if those bright, impish eyes were any indication.
Vilkas, meanwhile, had nearly finished his book. Pasoroth's wife, Mena, had returned to the stands with quite a flush to the face after whatever her husband managed to do in his suit of heavy armour. Hearing the conversation beside him and the near-tortured look on Helen's face, he concluded he needed to cut the head off this snake. Dropping the book down a fraction harder than necessary, Vilkas sat up better in his chair and eyed them all.
"Well," he sighed, "I feel that I have had enough time away from my dear wife. We have many things to…discuss." Vilkas stood and stalked like the wolf he used to be over to his wife and placed his calloused hand on her shoulder, trailing his fingers down her arm and to her hand where their digits intertwined. With ease, he heaved her onto her feet and gazed firmly into her glowing gold-green eyes.
With precision and delicacy, Vilkas leaned towards her left ear and softly breathed against it, garnering an immediate reaction as Helen's face twitched faintly. "You need to be reminded of why I am a master at two-handed weaponry; how well my aim has improved; just how good my silver-tongue can make anyone do anything; I simply need to remind why I am an the best swordsman you ever had the honour to meet and marry." Vilkas' voice was deep and gravelly, an oddly enthralling sound combined with his lilting accent. He pressed his lips firmly against her lips and gazed at her with a sensual and knowing glint in his eyes; trailing his fingers back up her arm and shoulder, Vilkas walked down into the living quarters.
Farkas sat with his eyebrows raised. His brother hadn't said that quietly and even Serana seemed surprised to have heard what he'd said. Both stared at the Harbinger to see what she'd do. A few seconds passed until she moved and when she did it was to stampede down to the quarters. She caught the candlelight glinting off his wolf armour as he turned into the bedroom of the Harbinger's quarters and hurriedly, she dashed up behind him. The doors to the bedroom slammed shut and the sound resounded up into the main hall. There, Farkas and Serana sat in silence; the noise caused Farkas to grin widely and Serana to groan.
Later, Serana walked into the antechamber with some food for the pair when they awoke. But as she did so, tell-tale sounds emanated from within the room and kept up for a bit. Serana remembered what Helen had once said, "Because I know if I told, that you'd be so overcome with jealousy because you aren't getting any!" and she realised Helen was quite right. Serana was not getting anything and now was the moment she really understood.
She must have been standing there for quite a while because it was silent in the bedroom and the doors cracked open. Vilkas was standing there with a pair of simple cotton breeches and nothing else. Once his eyes landed on Serana he smirked widely. "Regretting all that torment?"
She said nothing, but frowned. Vilkas grabbed at a bottle of Alto wine and two tankards before sauntering back into the room. Once the door closed again, Serana sighed and dropped her shoulders.
"Yeah, she's getting that silver-tongue alright."
Thank you for reading this one-shot! Please review; I'd love to know where to improve or hear whatever you have to say, so long as it is NOT flames. They are very unhelpful and unnecessarily rude.
But I thank you in advance for other reviews! Please read my other one-shots. This romance stuff is slightly easier now.
Ithil Caladhiel.
